


Loose Ends Finish With Established Beginnings

by FNDocMainWrites



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Additional tags will be added, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Eventual Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Ghost is a bit protective over Roach, Hurt No Comfort, Little bits of fluff here and there, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, also putting the tag just in case, kind of? just putting the tag just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FNDocMainWrites/pseuds/FNDocMainWrites
Summary: In an alternate universe where Ghost and Roach survive the fateful encounter with Shepard at the Georgian-Russian border, they find themselves on the run with the remaining members of 141. Ghost himself isn't so keen on letting Roach out of his sight, unintentionally leaving behind a loose end in the process.
Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	1. Ghost of a Whispered Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again :D Back with another one, very much hoping this will be multi-chaptered, but I'm not too sure the consistency in uploads because I'm entering finals week very soon. My best hope is that things will calm down after and I'll be able to post and update.

It wasn’t unusual for Simon “Ghost” Riley to find himself panting heavily in his bed, having woken up from another nightmare. It wasn’t the first of many, he’d long since forgotten the number of times he woke up in a cold sweat, suffering from sleep deprivation for days on end. After Shepard was killed several months earlier for defecting from 141, and attempting to kill him and Roach, Ghost hadn’t felt the same. His body still felt a twinge of soreness from the bullet he’d taken while escorting his teammate to what he thought was safety. He sat up, cold sweat coating the back of his neck as he stared into the darkness. Only the light of the moon illuminated a small part of the room. He’d grown used to nightmares plaguing him often, but the unpredictability of each unsettled him. 

He glanced to his right and sighed in relief. 

Gary “Roach” Sanderson was still in his own bed. Amusingly wrapped heavily in two blankets to keep warm. Upon closer inspection, he appeared to be awake. He seemed to be motionless in order to not bother the older operator.

“Gary?” Ghost called out. “I know you’re awake.”

The darkened figure of Roach shifted until he was facing him upright. In the moonlight, his face was just barely visible, although Ghost could tell what he was thinking.

“I’m… I’m alright,” he murmured. “Just another bloody nightmare. Why are you still awake? You should be asleep by now..”

Roach shivered, pulling his blanket around him more tightly.

“Too cold to sleep for you eh? Get your arse over here.” Shedding the thicker blanket, the younger operator draped the smaller one over his shoulders. His teeth chattered as he quietly shuffled towards him.

Ghost chucked quietly, draping his own blanket over Roach, “sometimes I wonder how you survived Russian winter.”

Roach glowered, scooting closer until his body was flush with his. He quickly wrapped his arms and legs around Ghost’s torso, burying his face in the warmth. His own skin felt cold to the touch. The hairs on the back of Ghost's neck stood up as a spark of panic rushed through him, the lifeless eyes in his dream played back in his mind.

“Heheh, you’re more of a leech than anythin’, Roachy.” He nervously brushed his fingers through dark hair, inhaling his scent. 

The younger operator squeezed his arms, as if to emphasize his comment. 

“Alright, leech. Get comfortable, because I’m throwin’ you out of my bed in the morning.”

Roach grumbled incoherently, yawning soon after. Ghost himself wasn’t tired, as he was still shaken up over his nightmare. It felt different compared to his other usual nightmares that he had unfortunately almost grown numb to. It seemed as if Roach had sensed it as well. Ghost could feel himself growing uneasy.

“Can’t sleep,” Roach muttered. “Your dream. Talk.”

“Bloody ‘ell Gary. You know I don’t like talking about them.”

“Simon.”

Ghost sighed, “I dreamt that you were killed. Couldn’t do anything about it because my bloody arms were tied. Right in front of my eyes with no contest. No words. Couldn’t help but wake up and check to see if you were alive.” The image remained fresh in his mind. The blood pouring from his face, to the lifeless look in his eyes. The sight of an inevitable death.

“There was nothing I could do,” he murmured again. “Felt paralyzed, I think… I was dead for real. I let someone kill you.”

Roach rubbed his arm comfortingly, squeezing him close.

“Yeah yeah, it’s not my fault. I shouldn’t worry so damn much,” he replied. “Can’t help that it gets into my mind when I’m asleep. Just glad that you’re alright.”

Ghost shifted, wanting to look at the face he’d come to love.

“I love you. Wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to ya if I can help it.”

The younger operator nodded, intertwining his fingers around his hand as if to say,  _ you too. _

__ “You know I’d never let a muppet like Shepard touch me or you in a heartbeat. Not after that shite.” He planted a soft kiss on his forehead, exhaling in relief. He wasn’t exactly tired yet, but he could tell the other man was. The only thing keeping him barely awake was him trying to make Ghost feel better.

“Go to sleep love, you’ve been awake for me for too long.” He squeezed Roach’s body.

The younger operator shook his head, “no.”

Ghost chuckled quietly, “that wasn’t a suggestion. I know you’re tired Gary, and I’ve already poured my emotional distress on you. You’re gonna need sleep tomorrow and there’s no contest about it.”

“You sleep first.”

“C’mon love. Just do it for me?” Roach stared at him with unamusement before groaning and shutting his eyes. Ghost smiled, knowing he’d owe some kind of favor down the road.

“Goodnight, IcyHot.”

The room went near silent. Leaving the bittersweet sound of silence occupied by the soft breathing of both operators. Ghost couldn’t help but admit that times like this, even if they were brought on by horrible circumstances...were the best. It always ended in tranquil ambience and a pair of arms wrapped around him. The deafening whispers murmuring his own regrets would quiet down. He’d realized long ago that there would maybe be one day where neither he, or Roach would be there for the rest of their lives, and leave the other in complete silence. But he’d come to understand that such things weren’t something to dwell on when they didn’t happen. All he needed was this to dispel the nightmares that plagued him.

For once in a happy moment, Ghost closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes hours later, the first crack of dawn seeped through the clouds. Orange had poked through the opening in the blinds, rousing Ghost into a half-asleep state before realizing that Roach was still pressed up against him. He lazily smiled.

“Always last to wake up,” he mumbled, fondly brushing his fingers through short, dark brown hair. As soon as Roach would be awake, Ghost knew he’d be grumpy before his coffee. His presence would only act as a mere inhibitor to such an attitude. 

“Hey, wake up Grumpy. I said I’d throw you out of my bed.” He gently nudged the body slumbering next to him. Roach merely groaned, pulling Ghost with him as he shifted.

“C’mon Gary, it’s time to wake up.Ya can’t hold onto my body for warmth all the time. That’s what the coffee’s for.” Arms slowly slithered away, retreating under the blanket to salvage what heat laid trapped underneath. The older operator sighed. He sat up and stretched, feeling the satisfying crack in his back.

“If ya don’t get up right now, I’ll have to douse you in cold water.” With an annoyed grumble, Roach sat up. He rubbed his shut eyes and yawned, shivering in the cold morning air. Quietly stumbling out of bed, Roach left the room first, returning after several minutes had passed. His face still displayed exhaustion.

“Heh, good morning to ya too, Sunshine.” He pecked the younger operator’s lips, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly.

“Coffee,” Roach muttered. 

“Yeah, I heard ya love. Go change, I’ll meet ya down there.”

Ghost felt content, but deep down he knew there was something he was hiding from Roach.


	2. Haunted Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to get done with Chapter 2 - pretty hyped about that :> Just a quick note but thank you for kudos/comments! Really spurs me to keep going at it :D

In the main foyer, operatives of 141 bustled about, shoveling down whatever was available in order to prepare for the day that were filled with haunting reminders of what loomed over them. Ghost managed to snatch two cups of steaming coffee, along with a breakfast sandwich. Maneuvering through the crowd, he quickly caught sight of John Price and John “Soap” MacTavish sitting isolated from the rest of the force. Both of their faces were slack with exhaustion and blank expressions.

“Well, there he is. You and Roach are late,” Price grunted, scooting his chair over. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Thought I’d try to avoid early morning rush,” He sarcastically replied. 

Soap set down his cup. He looked worse off than anyone else. On the edges of the tank top he wore, white bandages were wrapped around his chest. Pale skin bruised dark purple along with sickening greens along his body. Stitches crossed his flesh, blushing red. Ghost almost shuddered, remembering the night he was able to see Roach again. 

“Where is he? Christ, if anyone is late, leave it to Roach.”

“Business,” Ghost drily replied. Mere moments later, the man in question entered the foyer, scanning the vicinity before locking eyes with him.

“About time,” Price grumbled.

Sliding the spare cup of coffee, Ghost smirked in Price’s direction.

“Not get your beauty sleep?” Soap glared at him, prompting Ghost to shrug, although his face showed a hint of amusement.

“That’s not the point,” He stated. “With Shepherd dead and Makarov still loose, we don’t got much time before the rest of the world is on our arses again.” 

“We got any idea where the muppet is hiding?” In the corner of his vision, the hairs on the back of Roach’s neck stood up, agitation seeping into him.

“Russian Loyalists are working on that, but right now, we need to bug out. 141’s numbers are dwindling, and we need boots on the ground to go after that bastard. Now that all obstacles for him are off the table, he’s gonna try to reassert control in Europe,” Soap answered. “We’re already spread thin as it is, but someone’s gotta do the bloody job.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’d have to split ourselves,” Ghost stated. “What does this mean for us? Goin’ back out there and piecing ties together? Putting a bullet in Makarov’s head to end all this shite?”

“Time and place for everything, right now our priority is to get the hell out of here or else we’re going to be caught up in a part of a war we don’t want to be in,” Price leaned forward in his seat, his blue eyes sparking with seriousness. “We leave tonight.”

Ghost stole a glance at Roach. The other man was slumped against his shoulder, softly snoring. The low droning buzz vibrating from the helicopter filled the silence. His face couldn’t be seen, for his signature skull balaclava concealed his features. But had it not covered him, his face would easily convey a swirl of emotions and uncertainty. Roach had once joked that Ghost might have worn the damn thing everywhere because he felt safe behind a garb of cloth. Maybe he was right. He felt more in control of himself that way. 

“Haven’t seen you without him until this morning,” Soap mused. He sat directly in front of him in the cramped space. “Nice to see that you two watch each other’s back.”

“Surprised Shepherd didn’t kill either of us for it,” Ghost responded, cracking a wicked grin.”Probably the nicest thing the cunt ever did for us.”

Soap exhaled air through his nose, “think we’re all glad that he got what was comin’ to him. I think Roach was especially relieved.”

“Relieved huh,” Ghost mindlessly said. He thought about the moment he saw Roach after surviving the encounter. Unconscious, hooked up to various machines along with an IV drip. Dried blood coated his torso.

“Ya. Refused to leave your side when we dragged the both of ya into Nikolai’s bird. He’s a good fighter, fought to stay awake until he was sure you weren’t off at hell’s doorstep. The moment he heard ya coughin’ he just sighed in relief and passed out. Think that was right before you started freaking out and screaming bloody murder.”

He brushed his fingers through dark locks, “he stayed awake just to make sure I wasn’t poppin’ daisies? Bloody madman he is. He didn’t have to worry about me so much. I’d kill that bastard Shepherd first before I’m as good as dead. For hurting  _ him.” _

__ “He had just as much of a reason to be so concerned like you did. Anywhere else and that bullet might’ve just finished ya off.” Soap thought for a moment. “He cares about you just as much as you care about ‘im. I’m sure he’d feel the same way if he lost you.”

“He had nothin’ to worry about,” Ghost curtly replied. “I’ve felt worse.”

“Maybe,” He answered neutrally. “I wouldn’t blame him for worryin’ anyway.”

That night, Ghost stayed awake. He secretly hoped he wouldn’t dream again.

He didn’t know when, but he had dozed off, unable to fight his natural instinct to sleep. He woke up to his shoulder gently being nudged by Roach.

“Simon,” the younger operator whispered. 

Ghost blinked the sleep away from his eyes, the blinding rise of dawn pierced his vision.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shielding his face. “What time is it?”

Roach paused, “time to go.” He tugged on his sleeve.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, “I’m up, no need to drag me out. Where the hell are we?”

“Home.”

Ghost glanced out of the side window. They appeared to be in a densely wooded area, snow coating the surrounding land. He hadn’t realized how cold it was. Not far off, a large concrete building protected by tall pine trees loomed just meters away. It almost looked like a secluded maximum security prison to Ghost, but close by were Price and Soap, conversing with Nikolai. Their faces were enigmatic, but Ghost could easily tell that something wasn’t right.

“We’re… In Russia? What the bloody hell?” Ghost scooted closer to Roach, shivering in the morning chill. His head pulsated,  still feeling the remnants of sleep trying to reclaim him. 

“Loyalist hideout,” Roach responded. “Safe… For now.”

“The Russian ultranationalists would be mad if they didn’t think to try to search their own turf for us,” he grunted. “Also it’s too damn cold. You’d think Nikolai would take us to a warmer place. The damn building better have good insulation.”

Ghost was pleasantly surprised that indeed, it was much warmer inside, complete with decent food that Price mused was set up just for the 141 as a welcoming gift. Soap himself seemed more at ease than usual, his features more relaxed.

“The Loyalists think they’ve tagged a location on Makarov,” Price stated. He no longer looked deathly pale, but weariness lingered on his face. “They’ll be able to assist us, but there’s another problem.”

“Just four hours ago there were chemical attacks in Berlin, London, and Paris. Loyalists suspect that it was Makarov’s doing,” Soap sat up straight, resting his forearms against the table.

“Actionable intel or assumption?” Ghost questioned.

“Both. While Price, Yuri and I were in Sierra Leone searching for cargo owned by Makarov. Got caught up with the enemy militia and couldn’t get the cargo in time. Yuri suspected that they’d be taken to Europe. Loyalists have confirmed that Makarov has weapon shipments circulating around with the help of a man named Waraabe.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“Means that we might just have an edge in this war,” Yuri approached the operators, Nikolai followed not far behind. “By tackling these leads, we could get a location on his other affiliates and even his future locations.” 

“Another thing. Got back into contact with MacMillian, says he can help us out with Waraabe. Won’t be much, but we’ll need all the help we can get.” Price glanced at Roach, who quietly stared down at his cup.

“Roach,” he called, grabbing the operator’s attention. “You’ll be with Soap and I.”

Ghost’s blood went cold, his body frozen in place.

Roach nodded mutely, stealing a glance at Ghost, whose expression remained unreadable behind the balaclava and red tinted glasses. He could however, see that the blue eyes were staring at him.


	3. Crazy Little Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo another chapter, gotta say, writing in caps was pretty weird because I usually never do it. Also writing this before adding tags and such but I'm pretty sure I'll be changing warnings and stuff? Cause this chapter is more darker than the other two. Just wanna say read at your own caution.

“I can’t believe it,” Ghost murmured, nervously pacing around their new private quarters. Small, but enough to fit both of them. “They’re makin’ you travel across an entire continent- are they  _ out of their bloody minds?!”  _

__ “Simon-” 

“You could get  _ killed  _ out there! Or-Or held captive and tortured!” Ghost interrupted, grabbing the operator’s shoulders. “I don’t know what- I can’t believe-”

“ _ Simon,”  _ Roach repeated. “Please.”

The older Brit paused, staring into worried dark eyes. Through his self-generated panic and trepidation, he could interpret the look in those eyes.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I know- you’re not-you’re not some kid or a newbie. I just-” He stood in stunned silence, mentally cursing at himself for losing his self-control.

Roach pressed their foreheads together, a calloused yet gentle hand caressed his cheek. Ghost sighed, shutting his eyes. His inner voice screamed at him, but the soft breathing and thumb rubbing against his cheek bone choked it into silence. For a moment, he swore he could think with clarity.

“Sorry, love,” he said, opening his eyes. Roach had always loved the gentle blue. “I didn’t mean… You just be careful, alright?”

“Always.”

Ghost nervously chewed at his lip, a habitual thing it seemed. How could he have stepped out of line like that? His face must have clearly showed the thought, no longer hiding behind the balaclava. He’d be lying if the thought at arguing with Price didn’t cross his mind at least once.

“Sleep with me tonight?” He asked. He was mildly pleased at the nod that followed. Roach hardly ever said no unless it was scorching hot. Ghost had slowly begun to hate sleeping alone.

“Can’t believe I let a bug mess with me for a year,” He muttered playfully. “A scorchingly hot one at that.”

Roach exhaled air from his nose, scooting closer under the covers. 

“Leaving tomorrow.”

“I know…” Riley responded. He opened his mouth to say more before realizing he didn’t know what to say.

So he simply pressed their lips together, and shut his eyes, although he knew he didn’t want to.

_ “Don’t you FUCKING touch ‘im! I will swear on your bloody soul that I will tear you to fucking shreds if you lay a FINGER ON HIM!”  _ Ghost was screaming at the top of his lungs, so much in fact that he wasn’t sure if the voice was even his. He strained against  _ something,  _ although it didn’t feel heavy or real. In fact, it didn’t even feel like there was anything bound against his wrists. Why was he yelling? There was nothing but the blackness of the featureless room... 

_ “This is what happens when you let others come into this crazy little game of ours, Simon,”  _ a disembodied voice murmured back to him. It was sly, filled with a smugness at the grotesque amusement of Ghost’s helpless situation.

He jerked his arms one way,  _ “there is no fucking game. If you so much as leave a fingerprint you’ll never see the light of day.” _

__ _ “Ah, but there is a game isn’t there? You bring your little Bug in… And then we have a gamble on his life. What will you do once he is dead? Give into the madness and run off on a killin’ spree, knowin’ it won’t do anything to bring him back? Or kill me? You’d only be ripping a part of yourself away. You’ll never be whole.”  _ the owner of the voice stepped into view, oddly untouched by the shadows of the room, almost as if there really was no darkness at all. All Ghost could see was a reflection of himself, crouched in front of him. Except this version of him had sickeningly pale blue eyes, desaturated to the point where they almost blended in with the whites of his eyes. It almost made him want to vomit had he not been filled with rage. 

_ “I’d… Be happy to rip you out of me,”  _ Ghost rasped. He was breathless, but he hadn’t done anything. It almost felt like he had run across the world on foot.  _ “You’re nothing but the part of me that shouldn’t bloody exist. Nothing would be missed.” _

__ His reflection laughed hollowly,  _ “without a part of you who are you? That’s what our little Bug asked when we first met him eh?” _

__ _ “He’s not fucking yours. I shoved you away for his own safety for a reason.” _

__ With a snap of fingers, another figure materialized into view, once again untouched by the darkness. Instead, they appeared so vividly, like a shining beacon in the middle of nowhere.

_ “Gary,”  _ Ghost murmured.  _ “Don’t you do anythin’ to him, you fucking prick.” _

__ _ “If you’re so eager to rip me apart, why don’t we test drive it with your Bug? Loyal to a fault… He would burn for us with a smile, Simon. He wouldn’t question us… He would listen unerringly to our wishes to see him perish. Why do you resist against the destruction you want to see and feel? You know you always craved your own taste of revenge.” _

__ He frantically began to strain against his binds, he knew where this was about to go. He growled, adrenaline pumping through his body, but he felt frozen in place. 

_ “That’s not fucking true. Don’t you FUCKING DARE! GARY!”  _

__ His copy brushed his fingers along the younger operator’s jawline in a sadistically affectionate manner, oil canister held in his free hand. His lips were upturned in a sickly sweet smile while Roach’s were featureless. In fact, he was completely unmoving aside from the breath he took. 

When did he get the canister?

_ “It’s alright, Gary. This will all be over soon. I’ll awake very shortly… I always do. Just have to light the fuse… Til’ death do us part.” _

__ Ghost’s blue eyes widened. The vividness, that was the slick sheen of oil. Roach was already doused in the fluid. All he really had to do was light the fuse as his other half said... That was the light glowing from his hand at this moment.

“That’s  _ ENOUGH!”  _ He roared, body shooting upright. His eyes flew open as he panted heavily, frantically darting his gaze around the blackened room. Right next to him, Roach jolted awake, eyes raised with alarm. He himself sat upright, his body fully alert. 

Ghost blinked, “Gary? Christ-you’re okay… It’s… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He huffed nervously.

“It’s-it’s nothing. Just a bad dream.” Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as the hairs stood up. Roach’s body relaxed as his body sunk against the weight of the mattress. His face still covered with worry. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Go back to sleep… You have a big day tomorrow,” Riley muttered, running a hand through his own hair. 

“No,” Roach grunted, sitting upright once more. “ _ You  _ aren’t okay.”

“When have I ever?” He murmured humorously. “Look, ya know I get nightmares once in a while. All of us do. Sitting here and arguin’ with me isn’t gonna help ya at all tomorrow. You’re gonna need all the energy you can get.”

It was a bittersweet truth, caring for someone else in this line of work came with drawbacks. Ghost had nearly paid the price so long ago… even before he met Roach. He thought he’d learned his lesson after every time.

Roach pressed his lips together as he formed a scowl. 

“I’m… Not allowed to care?” He whispered angrily. His body puffed up agitatedly. “It’s always  _ me! _ You never let  _ me _ care about you!” 

Ghost paused, “Gary… Let’s just talk about this later. Go to sleep.”

“I’m  _ not a child.”  _

“I didn’t say you were one.”

“You treat me like one!” He snapped. His eyes were furious. Embodied by the rigidness of the younger operator’s body. Ghost very rarely saw Roach angry. Silence ensued between the both of them, Ghost himself at a loss for words brought on by his own realization held back by his fear to admit fault.

Roach narrowed his eyes as he rose from the bed and retreated to his own. His body language turned into a sign that he’d bear through the bitterly cold night with spite. His own simmering anger would be enough to keep himself company. Ghost in turn lied back down. It would be an even longer night for him. His inner voice urged him to salvage the situation, apologize, anything. 

He laughed quietly. It was a hollow, empty feeling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for absence! To be honest I was going to make this chapter the last one, but it seems I'm making a fifth (not sure about a sixth hahah). This is a bit of a longer chapter. No promises but I'm hoping to have the final(?) chapter updated soon instead of the long period of time between chapter three and four.

In the morning, Roach was gone. Ghost didn’t know when he fell back asleep, but it was a painfully lonely feeling. In fact he felt  _ horrible  _ in more ways than one. The post-guilt was beginning to eat him alive along with an annoyingly uncomfortable queasy feeling. He quickly chalked the second feeling to jet-lag. 

Could one get jet-lag by flying in a helicopter? Ghost questioned it often, but he never really bothered to test it out. Other questions seeped through his mind. Stalking through the inner corners.

How the hell could he have laughed to himself last night? 

In the mess hall, various Russian Loyalists bustled about, laughing and chattering amongst themselves as they prepared for another day. It bitterly reminded him when times were better before Shepherd had betrayed them. Nikolai and Yuri approached Ghost, eyes gleaming and brimming with interest.

“Good morning,” Nikolai greeted. “Adjusting well to a new time zone?” 

“Not particularly,” he responded neutrally. “The others leave already?”

Yuri nodded, “they should be en route. They were hoping that you’d be on overwatch at some point. But I think Kamarov is taking over.”

“Right. Bet they’re havin’ the time of their lives with him,” he said sarcastically. He blinked once. Strangely enough their figures were swaying gently. Maybe the jet-lag was a little worse than he thought.

“Ghost, are you okay? You look pale friend,” Nikolai patted his shoulder. “You look slightly paler than usual. Been getting sleep?”

Ghost shrugged the hand off of his shoulder, “mind your own business. I’m fine.”

The Russian eyed him curiously before nodding, “alright. We’ll leave you to it. Feel free to look around if you’d like. Just be sure to be back by sundown and don’t bother the patrols,” he leaned forward. “They get a little excited when they see a new drinking partner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered as he trudged off, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, I’m too tired for this shite.”

His throat went dry as he remembered last night more clearly. He clicked the door to his room shut and sighed, leaning back against the wooden frame. 

“Christ I’m starting to lose it…” He gripped his blond hair in his hands, shuddering as he remembered Roach’s blank expression in yet another one of his nightmares. His lovely brown eyes were never dull. His face always glistened with emotion, Ghost had always loved the way his face shaped itself into another expression. He began to feel guilty for making him angry.

_ “You treat me like one!”  _ He winced, remembering the heavy air hanging around him as Roach snapped at him. He wasn’t wrong, after all, Ghost had been waving off his concerns and worry away, feigning wellness for the sake of it. As far as his muddled mind could remember, he’d never gotten into a fight with the younger operator that warranted one of them to leave the situation. Thinking back on it now, he was trying to remember why he’d let this happen.

Oh, right. He was absolutely terrified at the thought of losing Roach.

He was so close to letting the delicate strings of life slip from his fingers as a result of trusting too openly. It nearly cost his own life and his beloved bug.

He slid into the nearby bed and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Roach. Oh, how he already missed him, how much Ghost wanted to say sorry a hundred times and admit being in the wrong. Roach wouldn’t forgive so easily, he learned that the hard way. 

He laughed quietly to himself, “guess you’ll never get your revenge that way.” To an outsider, the comment wasn’t directed towards anyone, and Ghost could easily be seen as a lunatic or someone reciting a conversation before actually following through. But Riley knew better than that.

_ “Where is he? WHERE IS HE?!”  _ Ghost’s voice was loud, roaring with pure rage as he attempted to prop himself up on his elbows. The sight of a disheveled MacTavish held him down, pressing him by the shoulders.

_ “Christ, Ghost! Calm the fuck down! You’re bleedin’ out!”  _ He quickly motioned for a nearby Price who held a shot of morphine in hand.

He struggled, tossing his head around angrily,  _ “let me the fuck go, Soap! Where the fuck is Shepherd? I’ll fuckin’ tear his bloody heart out-” _

_ “What the hell are ya waitin’ for Price?! He’s not gonna hold on for much longer!”  _ Soap slammed the lieutenant back down onto the makeshift medical table, sending up shockwaves of pain up his spine. Price quickly followed suit, administering the drug into Ghost’s body. 

Price placed a hand on his shoulder, much more gentle than the other CO had.

_ “Yer’ gonna be alright, Ghost! You hear me? You are NOT leavin’ us!”  _ The fire burning in Price’s eyes was intense, but it couldn’t have compared to the white-hot fury coursing through his slowly numbing body.

Ghost gripped Soap’s wrist, blue eyes staring straight into his soul,  _ “Soap… Where is Roach?”  _ His voice was raspy, but still on the deep end of a growl.

_ “Doctor’s tendin’ to him. We ain’t got long until Nikolai and his forces have converged on our location, just hold out until then-” _

_ “I don’t bloody care, let me see him. Take me to Roach- I don’t care what it takes-” _

_ “Not a chance,”  _ Soap responded, dodging an incoming bullet.  _ “Too dangerous! We’re gettin’ ya the hell out of here!” _

_ “I’m not leavin’ until I see him! Where IS HE?!”  _

_ “We are evacuating both of you in whatever means necessary, you are NOT to move from this position and that is an  _ order.  _ Understand?”  _ The captain snapped. He unholstered his gun, firing madly through a shattered window. In the corner of his eye, Ghost saw his own reflection. The same one that playfully threatened the love of his life. 

_ “You think I won’t follow you?”  _ His voice was a piercingly loud echo, overpowering everything else that happened to be pounding in Ghost’s ears.  _ “This might be a game but it’s no fun when you run, Simon.” _

His other half leaned against a splintered desk, casually observing the carnage and violence spilling out with amusement. Peering closely there was a bullet puncture in his side as well, although he didn’t seem to take notice. With what strength he had, Ghost glanced around, hoping to see his lover close by. 

_ “You want to see him so badly?”  _ His other self mocked. Desaturated eyes gleamed with sadistic enthusiasm.  _ “You already know what he looks like. You’re a lot more like me Simon... You don’t have to hide it, there’s nothing wrong with being who you truly are.” _

_ “Shut the fuck up and get out of ‘ere,”  _ He snarled.  _ “I’ll never let you back out. Even if it costs me my life.” _

The other him thought for a moment.

_ “What brings you to care so much about the little bug? He is nothin’ more than another Sargeant thrown to the front lines to be wasted away for the sake of his country.” _

Ghost panted heavily, his body becoming weaker by the second as his energy was sapped even as he lay there. His voice became immobilized as he could feel himself no longer speak. Maybe this was the part where he slipped back into unconsciousness. He could hear his own laughter, but it wasn’t his. He was sure his own mouth wasn’t open. The damned thing clamped shut right as he was going to shoot another threat.

_ “At a loss for words? Or are you just too scared to admit that you can’t admit it to him? He is your little audience you know… Just right there.”  _ The doppelganger of himself pointed to a corner of the room, and if Ghost craned his head just far enough, he could see the bloodied face of Roach, completely unconscious. If he could, he’d shudder. His paralyzed body forced him into stone cold stillness as he observed Roach’s features. It was exactly what he saw the night he could be with him again. Stains of blood caked his face as the same crimson color pooled around his waist, sticking to the fabric of his attire. Streaks of dirt smudged ghostly pale skin as a doctor furiously worked on him. 

_ “Aw, leavin’ so soon? It was only gettin’ interesting just now… Can’t ya handle him at his worst for just a little longer?” _

Ghost jolted awake, chest heaving as he glanced at the nearby clock. Twenty minutes had passed by, and he still felt dead-exhausted. A good night’s sleep was hard to come by in this line of work, but he hadn’t felt one for who knows how long. If bloody Shepherd hadn’t betrayed them he wouldn’t have to deal with all this shite. 

No… Even if Shepherd didn’t Ghost would still find a way to gravely fear for Roach’s life. Coddling him as if he didn’t know a damn thing about the real world… Only because  _ he  _ gave so much of a damn. Smothering him like a raging fire… Holding him back, tethered to no one else but Ghost who acted nothing more than an expendable bodyguard that no one would give a damn about if he perished in the worst of fires.

He shook his head, pulling out his balaclava out from under him. He stared at the dark fabric, brushing his fingers over the skull. He’d always worn it that it had melded in with his identity, defining what had caused nightmares for the Ultranationalists… Shadow Company and maybe even himself. The man who saw the fires of Hell and walked back, partially scathed. Had it not been for Soap and Price being there… Well, he’d walk right back in for good.

Slipping the balaclava back on, he yawned one last time and set out.

“Ghost, great seeing you,” Kamarov briefly glanced up from the control board before muttering something in Russian. “Operations are running smoothly.”

He grunted in return, looking over the Loyalist’s shoulder. In front of him was a file written entirely in Russian other than the words  _ Task Force.  _ Through the headset snug around Kamarov’s head, Ghost could hear the loud and thickly accented voice of Soap shouting. The words were very faint, but the Brit entertained the thought that he was on Roach’s arse again. That or he was cussing someone out.

“What’s the game plan this time?” He questioned, leaning up against the control module. 

“Right now they are looking for the arms dealer, Waraabe. By finding his whereabouts we can possibly find a good lead on Makarov.”

Ghost bit his lip, “how are they holdin’ up?”

“So far they are not hurt. There is heavy resistance but nothing they cannot handle. That Sergeant of yours is quite the shot.”

He stayed silent for a moment, “that you’re right.”

“At this rate if this keeps up, I expect them to be home in a few hours. You British are quite efficient. You should come spar with us sometime,” Kamarov grinned.

“Maybe. Haven’t had the opportunity to shoot somethin’ yet.”

“Seen the shooting range yet? I’m sure one of us can assist you.”

“I’ll pass. Got any alcohol?”

The Russian cocked an eyebrow, but his face was amused, “ask Nikolai.”

_ ~~~~ _

__ Ghost slammed down his sixth bottle staring at the falling snow blankly. He was utterly shitfaced, and yet the buzzing numbness enveloping his body kept him still. Sitting on an old tree trunk amongst towering pine trees, he briefly noted his breath becoming visible in front of his face. The sky was completely blackened, patches of open sky poked through, revealing an array of stars on a milky backdrop. If he was sober enough, he’d muse at the fact that Roach would  _ live  _ for this kind of scene, unbothered by light pollution and even if most of it was obstructed. Overhead the loud droning noise emanating from helicopters above shot through, landing meters away. Staring at the empty bottles laying next to the chopped tree trunk he was sitting on, Ghost stumbled towards the helipad. 

“Bloody right that Makarov will have hell rainin’ upon him. We get to Volk, we get a lead,” Price stepped out last, his face weary and exhausted. Dried dirt streaked across his forearms. Ghost couldn’t see it in his swaying vision, but he was trying to not shiver from the cold temperatures.

“Right. Now let’s get out of this fuckin’ weather. Next time  _ I’m  _ picking the safehouse. And it’ll be damn warmer too,” Soap grunted, heading inside first. Roach quietly followed, a tired look in his eyes-the only exposed thing on his face for that matter-before stopping as Ghost drunkenly approached them. The look in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t all too excited to see him-or he was surprised that Ghost was holding his drunken state together quite nicely. Otherwise, his brows furrowed as he frowned behind his balaclava.

“Hey,” Ghost slurred, stopping in front of him. “Been… Waitin’ for ya.”

Roach merely stared at him with hard eyes. He didn’t seem to want to indulge his non-soberness. Quietly, he brushed past him to catch up with the others.

The older operator caught his shoulder, “I’m-I wasn’t done yet… Still have ta’... Talk ta’ ya.”

Roach sighed and shrugged off the offending hand. He didn’t have time to deal with a drunk Ghost. It was only them outside, but even then he could feel embarrassment seeping into him.

“Gary-”

“I don’t  _ care,”  _ he said coldly, striking a heart wrenching glare.

Ghost paused, his unfocused eyes blinking as if he didn’t hear the statement.

“Is...Is it tha’ way I’ve been treatin’ ya? I’ve been-been somethin’ horrible.”

“Simon… Just go away.”

Something inside Ghost trembled deeply, whether it was his gut or the deepest part of his soul he didn’t know. But wisps of wetness pooled in his eyes as he rambled.

“Fuck I… I’m sorry Gary-I… If I wasn’t so piss-brained I’d be more… Sincere. I’m sorry I treat ya’ like a kid-I can’t bear the thought of losin’ ya I-God-Christ I’m so sorry-'' He sniffed. “I don’t want ta’ lose ya… I don’t. Haven’t been able ta’ sleep since Shepherd had it out for us-I can’t afford ta’ see ya’ go…Can’t stop worryin’ whenever I’m not around ta’ see ya’ alive and well...Never wanted ya’ to worry about me… Didn’t want ya’ to know how scared I was to lose ya.” 

Roach fell deafeningly silent, a hard achievement for how characteristically quiet he usually was. His eyes filled with a somber expression which widened as Ghost swayed backwards. 

_ “Simon!”  _ He shouted, catching him before he fell flat on his back. 

The older operator said nothing as his vision blurred into a void of black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The fifth and final chapter, very sorry for the wait! School got pretty busy, and I'm very glad I managed to finish this before ACTs happen. I was actually mulling over the thought of splitting this into a chapter six, but I didn't want to drag on an even longer wait time. So this chapter I believe is about over 3k words?   
> As another note I've got no plans to make any other multi-chaptered fics for a while. I feel like the wait-time between chapters is just too long and I don't want to unintentionally lose interest in unfinished WIPs because of it. So for now probably expect stand alone fics with no chapters (unless stated otherwise... it's like my mind has a mind of its own lol)

_ “Our body finally gave in eh? About time. Couldn’t face it now could ya, Simon? Had to drunk yourself up before ya could admit anythin’ to the little pest. You don’t really learn do you?” _ From his view the Other Simon stared down at him, indicating that Ghost himself was lying on his back. There was mock disappointment on his face. The closer Ghost looked, the jagged scar on his forehead dripped blood, almost endlessly.

He sat up, clutching his head as a pounding headache pulsated everywhere.

_ “Fuckin… Bloody ‘ell. The fuck is goin’ on?”  _ He growled, shutting his eyes. There was no light, just a sea of black void, but it felt like there was a high beam shining a whole foot in front of him. 

_ “Quite the show ya put on for us. Shame it ended so soon. Think our little pest will forgive us?” _

_ “I don’t have a bloody clue as to what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”  _

_ “Don’t remember? Think that’ll be the greatest heartbreaker comment for when ya go back. Ya ramble about your sob story only to forget you said it. Ya aren’t very sincere to our Bug now are ya?” _

Oh. Right. It was all coming back to Ghost now. In the middle of his drunk episode he’d confessed to Roach about… Right. He pulled his head out of his hands, instead he glanced into the darkness. A wave of emptiness seeped into him, consuming the warmth emanating from his own body and sapping it into bitter coldness. It made his skin crawl with disgust, and yet it felt painfully familiar.

_ “Think I’ll be able to fix everythin’?”  _ He asked suddenly.

The question caught the Other Simon off guard,  _ “excuse me?” _

_ “You know how we are. Won’t stop until we get things done. You know me best, and I know you best. You know I’ll try my damn hardest to fix the shite I put Gary into. Never knew how to deal with this though. All this damn time I’ve been scared shitless at the thought of losin’ him. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about the time I let him almost die in front of me. I was too arrogant to notice what I was doin’ to him… Suffocatin’ him that’s for sure. Pushed him to his very limit until he left me to drink my issues away. He was right. I treated him wrong.” _

_ “Then why keep tryin’?” _

Ghost shrugged,  _ “not much use to keep goin’ after you lost so much huh? You know us… We never learned our lesson.” _

_ “If I knew us best it’s that ya can’t win everythin’.”  _ His other snapped. 

Ghost paused, he slowly began to stand up,  _ “not unless ya don’t take action.”  _ He studied his other half, noticing the flicker in bleached eyes.

His eyebrows raised,  _ “you’re scared, aren’t ya? Scared I’m goin’ to resolve my shite, stop dreamin’ about ya and have ya left with nowhere to go? You think I’m goin’ to win don’t ya?” _

_ “Don’t dream of it,”  _ he snapped.  _ “You are nothin’ without me.” _

The Brit grinned wolfishly,  _ “you were right about one thing. I’m very much like ya. But at the same time-”  _ He lunged at his other self, jerking him close by the collar of his shirt,  _ “-I’m the better half.” _

_ “You want a fight? I’ll give ya one. Should’ve done this a long time ago,”  _ he was met with resistance, but Ghost wasn’t fazed. He quickly brought his fist forward with force, colliding with bone as he felt a sharp pain twinge in the exact same spot he had slugged his doppelganger. 

_ “The only easy day for ya, was yesterday. Ya had every opportunity to assume control the night I fucked things up with him. If anythin’ you’re nothin’ without ME.” _

He sprung forward again, pushing his weight against his fallen self so as to limit any chance of resistance. But if Ghost knew himself well, it wouldn’t be an easy task to hold himself down, more or less his own doppelganger. Fumbling around, his free hand touched the handle of a knife, right where he always kept it. Just what he needed.

_ “I’m nothin’ without you? YOU?! I was THERE for ya when ya couldn’t feel a damn thing for anyone else, had nothin’ else to live for AND kept ya motivated to go after Roba after he took everythin’ away from us!”  _ With a wave of raging fury the Other Simon overpowered Ghost’s grip, knocking him backwards in a momentary daze flat on his back. He dropped the knife, the metal clattering to the ground as it slipped through his fingers. Through his blurred vision he could tell that his malicious half was swaying, almost as if he was in a drunken state. A trick of the eyes, rather he was simply feeling what he had inflicted on his near-sane equal.

_ “I showed ya the way. I showed ya what we could be as GHOST! Now ya wear the name, thinkin’ you’re entitled to bein’ the nightmare fuel of everyone that stands in our way. I gave us that glory! And all ya want is to keep this- _ Roach  _ around?! I have no use for you!”  _ The Other Simon snatched the knife, gripping the handle with the blade pointing downwards. Grabbing Ghost by his throat, he felt pressure growing suffocatingly stronger. He was sure both of them could feel the sensation.

Ghost laughed a weak wheeze,  _ “but didn’t ya know, Simon?”  _ He gripped his wrist to ease the pressure off of his throat cavity, still roused in a fit of laughter. Truly he wasn’t making too much of an effort to free himself. Deep within himself he felt ready to give in to this dark desire. After all if he was gone it’d lay his suffering to rest once and for all. But the image of Roach all alone had torn away the hopelessness. He couldn’t give up just yet. Deep down he knew that running away from it all wouldn’t lay everything that haunted him to rest.

_ “Keep your mouth shut, once this is all over I’ll fix things the way they should’ve been!” _

Ghost managed to shove him off, the overwhelming pressure wilting away. Knocking the knife away he quickly clasped his hands around the other’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could and ignoring the returning feeling.

_ “Didn’t-ya know?”  _ Ghost choked out,  _ “-without me you are nothing.” _

The Other Simon’s eyes widened as he tried desperately to pull the offending hands off of his throat. Ghost could easily tell he was losing oxygen, the edges of his own vision blackening more than they already were. In one swift motion he gripped the knife and drove it into his chest, just under his collar bone. Immediately blood gushed from the fresh wound as he felt the immense pain pooling right where he had driven the blade. With what remaining strength he had he pulled it out before releasing his other hand, stabbing his doppelganger in his neck. Red squirted from the puncture wound, five inches long. Another sharp, burning hot pain tore through Ghost, but no blood poured from him. The pain was almost unbearable. He’d had half the thought to rip the blade out-let himself bleed out faster-but he ultimately decided against it. After all, he had other plans in mind.

Bleached eyes stared at him in disbelief, utterly shocked and immobilized as they were unable to comprehend what had happened.

_ “Ho… How?!”  _

_ “Smile,”  _ Ghost gurgled. It was almost as if he were drowning in his own blood. He brushed his fingers against his cheekbone.  _ “You don’t want to keep them waitin’ with the story that ya saw the Ghost.” _ He glanced up, noting the mangled figures of Roba, Shepherd, and his own father. Stepping backwards he watched as the three stalked forward like a hungry wolf pack finding prey. Neither paid any attention to the standing Ghost, and instead focused on the one frantically struggling to crawl away while immobilized by the blood pooling in his wounds. If Ghost had felt a twinge of fear rising in his gut, he was sure the Other Simon had felt the same rising intensity.

_ “S-Simon-”  _ His other half murmured,  _ “don’t leave me, you are nothing without me like I said. Save me and we’ll be whole again!”  _

Ghost stared at him, a stony expression on his blue eyes, yet they were full of life and new found feeling, having flourished at the realization he’d come out on top.

_ “I am better without you. You are nothin’ without me. Keep them entertained, Simon. Like I did.” _

_ “No, don’t leave me-” _

_ “Make sure to put on a show.” _

When Ghost came to, he felt the dizzyingly nauseous feeling of a hangover hitting him like a truck. The pain in his body no longer lingered as he laid in a bed that wasn’t his. In fact it looked more like a medical bed more than anything. The yellow light hovering above him glowed warmly, and Ghost was thankful it wasn’t piercingly white to jab needles of pain into his eyes. Lying next to him was the figure of Roach, leaning forward onto the bedding as he slept. It was an uncomfortable position, and the Brit was surprised that the younger operator was able to sustain it. Their hands were intertwined, Roach’s grip nearly ironclad. His pale face showed traces of tears, indicating that he likely had been crying not too long ago. 

Ghost sighed, releasing his hand and brushing his fingers through soft dark hair affectionately. He missed doing so.

“Couldn’t stop worryin’ now could ya?” He quietly mused. His voice was incredibly hoarse, and he soon realized his quiet desperation for water. He coughed once, and then twice, noting that the back of his throat felt like sandpaper. Mere moments later his minor coughing fit had roused Roach into a half-asleep state. Ghost mentally cursed at himself for being so careless. But for once, he had realized that the murmuring whispers in the back of his head had gone silent. Aside from his obnoxiously loud coughs, the world around him was enveloped in a gentle ambience-a rare yet ironic feeling as he’d been on the run for months after 141’s disavowed status.

Roach rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking every so often before every hair on his body raised with alarm.

“Simon?!” He gasped.

“Water...Christ-get water-” He managed to weakly choke out. The Sergeant didn’t need to be told twice. Ghost had sworn the younger operator had casted a miracle as he pulled a bottle filled nearly to the brim from under his view. Popping open the cap he quickly pushed it between chapped lips as Ghost tilted his head back and rested his hand against the bottle for extra support. Greedily gulping down the cold liquid the world around him felt several degrees cooler than it already was. A river brimming with flowing life. Within seconds he had nearly devoured three-fourths of what was offered, quickly finishing it with a satisfied sigh, his head hitting the pillow with a muted thud.

“I thought… You-Was worried…” Roach whispered, fingers twitching.

Ghost clasped his hand around icy cold fingers, rubbing the bony knuckles, “I’m sorry, Gary. Didn’t mean to scare ya’ intentionally. I feel okay right now, other than a ragin’ hangover.”

Roach stared at him with a withering glare.

“I’m serious, I promise,” he protested, “I didn’t do anythin’ stupid other than drink until I was piss-brained. That’s what I remember anyways.”

“Still mad at you.”

Ghost sighed, “I know. I’m really sorry for treatin’ ya the way I ‘ave been. ‘Course that doesn’t make up for my actions… But I’m sure I drunkenly told ya everythin’ before I passed out.”

Roach’s eyebrows raised, “you really… Meant it?”

“I don’t remember a lot,” he confessed, “but I’m sure ya heard all the parts that I was so damn scared for you and I’m an arrogant prick towards your feelings and you overall.”

He nodded, noting the sincerity in the Brit’s voice. The curtness of Roach’s response burned Ghost, mentally grumbling at the blunt nature of it.

“I really meant what I said,'' he stated, “never really wanted ya to worry about me as much as I did with you. Guess I ended up doin’ what I didn’t want you to do huh?” It was a feeble attempt at a joking response. But no matter how hard Ghost tried to convince himself it was a sufficient try, it wasn’t passing through the brick wall of Roach in the slightest. 

“I can’t not worry,” Roach murmured, his features were drooping into a frown.

“I know I just-” he paused, “-I let you take a hit right in front of me. I put so much trust into Shepherd that I didn’t realize… Couldn’t stop blamin’ myself for lettin’ you almost die. I was so focused on gettin’ ya to safety I ended up puttin’ you in danger. I was bein’ too damn careless. I’ve trusted the wrong people, and it’s gotten others I care about wounded or-or-”

“You couldn’t have known,” Roach replied sympathetically. 

“I should have been more cautious!” He snapped. The other operator winced, pulling his hand away instinctively. Blinking once he guiltily buried his face in his hands, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re not at fault… I should have seen the signs the moment he opened his damn mouth… Almost lost myself because of all this. I… I should have taken that bullet.”

Roach pulled Ghost close, settling next to him as the bed sunk under his weight. Normally Ghost put up a fight to the gesture, protesting that he didn’t want either of them to be caught in a vulnerable moment. Didn’t want to pay the price for letting his finely built walls fall and end in violence. This time he didn’t try to fight back, realizing that he desperately missed this kind of contact, and that if he did, it’d solidify his reputation as an absolute prick even further. Even sleeping together couldn’t have compared to the feeling of being able to just exist next to each other. Ghost missed this. His lack of trust in everything that moved held him back. Sometimes the Brit felt sorry for Roach. 

“I was scared too,” Roach stated quietly. It wasn’t angry, more like a confession. It clicked something in Ghost’s mind.

“Of losin’ me?” The younger operator nodded, staring forward. He was fiddling with the dog tag draped around his neck, a nervous tic that the Brit had come to notice. “Is… Is that why ya’ stayed awake after… After Shepherd tried killin’ us?”

“... You… Knew?”

Ghost’s face fell into a somber smile, “Soap told me the night we came here. Told me how worried you were when I was out cold. To be honest I didn’t want to listen. I’ve felt worse than a bullet through my abdomen. I was so set on revenge and makin’ Shepherd regret harmin’ you no amount of bullets could have stopped me from screamin’ bloody murder… I didn’t want to believe that you were scared that I almost died. I never wanted to make ya worry for me and end up the same way I did.”

“It stopped you from trusting me,” Roach murmured. “I thought you didn’t want this anymore. That I was too much trouble for you.”

“Is that how you?... Christ, I didn’t mean to... “ Ghost laughed pitifully, rubbing the palm of his hand profusely against his face, “I’ve really left a lot of problems behind huh?”

Roach squeezed him close, “I’m not a child, Simon. You can’t always be there to protect me.”

He sighed, draping an arm around broad shoulders, “yeah, I know. I should’ve trusted you more. If anythin’... You’re more than capable of keepin’ yourself alive. You’re here after all, suffocatin’ me ya leech.”

The brunet chuckled, creases forming on pale skin, no longer deathly paper white as it had been all that time ago. Ghost hadn’t realized it, but he radiated life in its purest form. It almost made the Brit jealous before acknowledging that he too, was alive. No, he didn’t have to fear anything. They’d always be connected. Maybe that’s all he needed. Reassurance.

“Do ya happen to have any aspirin or somethin’? Got a bloody headache killin’ my head right now.”

Roach smiled as he leaned forward to press their lips together. Yeah, maybe Ghost missed that too. He sighed pleasantly as Roach blindly fumbled around for a bottle of painkillers. He tugged on his shirt with both hands needily, dragging his body closer as Ghost so desperately wanted. An eternity with the man before him had been an enticing thought for as long as he breathed. He’d always hoped that the eternity would last forever-which was a very sentimental thought for the kind of man Ghost was-for it had been possibly  _ decades  _ since he could accept anyone else in his life. Throw down the walls he had spent so much time setting up, find courage in staying for someone else. He mused that usually this kind of neediness was the other way around, but the thought was quickly shelved as Roach pulled away.

“Till death do us part, Simon,” he said, handing him the bottle.

“Don’t get all mushy and shite, Gary. Ya always say to focus on the present, don’t make me think about  _ that  _ just yet,” he swallowed the tablets, “but don’t bet on it, I’ll be sure to swim through death and find ya to give ya the biggest bollocking that even Price couldn’t compare. And then I’d snog ya right after.”

The younger operator smiled, cocking an eyebrow.

“But really,” Ghost said, “I’m sorry for not trustin’ you and respectin’ your abilities.”

Roach brushed his fingers through blond hair, messily strewn about and sticking out in several spots. If he had the energy, he’d rub his knuckles against them as a playful gesture.

“All is forgiven,” he replied, “still gonna kick your ass later.” The look in his dark eyes indicated that he’d hold to his word, and even without it, Ghost knew that Roach kept his promises. No amount of careful watching would be enough to anticipate whenever he got well-deserved revenge-playful or not. Even with what events had preceded everything, this was all that Ghost needed. Enough to satiate his newfound view on the world that had always been grim to him. He’d always been convinced that the world wasn’t always divided by two colors-he himself could have been that example-judged by the experiences he’d been apart of in and out of Task Force 141. The world still had hope for him, and as long as he kept his squadmates, his bug close, maybe he’d finally learn his lesson.

_ Who knows,  _ Ghost thought. Maybe without a part of himself he was still truly Simon Riley.


End file.
